First Aid, Big Brother Style
by PlatinumRoseLady
Summary: Sam's a little banged up, and Dean takes care of him. Except that I wrote this, so you know stuff's not going to go as easy as THAT, right? Some silliness for those of us who miss it - and miss Dean and Sam acting like brothers.


**Disclaimer****: Kripke's characters, don't own anyone, blah blah blah… you know the drill by now, you're a smart bunch**

**Spoiler Alert****: None**

**Author's Notes: I don't know where this came from. Actually that's not true – it came from the fact that I'm still bummed out over "Sex & Violence" and the way the guy's relationship seems to be going. It also came from a few PMs with Mad Sever, who is made of awesomeness. Hope you like.**

**Spoilers: None. Just a goofy little fic written to make sad SN fans smile.**

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Sam leaned his head back against the bed, trying so very hard to keep his expression calm. He would NOT let Dean get to him; not this time. They had played this game so many times before and Sam never won. Ever. But this time it would be different; THIS time he wouldn't break. His hands clenched and unclenched the blanket, even as the muscles in his face struggled to maintain an air of neutrality.

He felt the slight sting of the alcohol as it touched his leg, entered the cuts below his knees. Stupid thorns. If only he'd run to the right instead of the left, he wouldn't have crashed into that thicket. Wouldn't be sitting on his bed with his brother tending to his wounds. Wouldn't be trapped here, Dean pretty much pinning him down, one hand treating his injuries, the other hand firmly gripping his ankles so he couldn't budge. Wouldn't…

Sam sucked in his breath as yet another charge ran up his foot. He was so glad Dean wasn't looking at him; if he'd seen the grin that had passed over his face it just would have gotten worse. NonononoNO, he wasn't going to let Dean win this one! He knew he was being childish, but what the heck did you call what Dean was doing to him? Mature?! Sam snorted, but caught himself. That way led to losing this battle, and he wasn't ready to do that yet.

_Focus on getting mad at him. That'll block it. I-I hope… can't hold out m-much longer…_

"Y-you're en-enjoying t-this" he ground out between clenched teeth. He tried to pull away, but his brother's hold was too strong. "Y-you sadistic j-jerk, yo-you're ENJOYING t-this!" He shut his mouth quickly, his chest slightly heaving; he'd almost given in that time.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Sam. I'm not the one that told you to take a fall into those brambles. I'm not the one that got cuts all over his legs. I'm just trying to be a good big brother and clean 'em so they don't get infected" Dean coolly replied, making no effort at all to hide the grin that covered his face. He picked up another medicated swab, gently ran it down Sam's leg.

Sam shut his eyes so tightly he was seeing stars. His breath was getting a little ragged. He was losing control, and he knew it; to make matters worse he knew that Dean knew it. "N-not g-going t-to…" He gave out with a yelp of laughter as his brother's fingers suddenly scraped up the sole of his foot. Again. He'd lost count of how many times that had happened since Dean had started to "help" him.

He should have known. All those remarks about Dean's reflexes getting slower, actually daring to point out that one of his bother's blond hairs was looking a little more grey than blond. Dean had taken all of that without a word, no snappy comeback, no punches, nothing.

And when he'd gotten slightly dinged up and sore and his big brother had offered to take care of him, well, how could he say no?

Sam cursed himself – how could he have been so naive? He'd just been so tired that when Dean got his shoes off, got his jeans rolled up so he could disinfect the scrapes, Sam had just rested his head against the wall with a grateful sigh.

And now he was helpless, unable to get away, as his older brother used the one thing that he'd always been able to use to get back at Sam when he was being annoying. It worked when they were kids, and it still worked now.

"Whoops. Sorry about that Sam, my hand slipped." Dean, needless to say, didn't sound the least bit apologetic.

"Your-your hand seems like its s-slipping a lot" Sam exhaled noisily. "I-I've heard some people have that problem as they get older…" he felt the grip on his ankles grow tighter even before he'd finished speaking.

Oh _no_.

Somewhere in the depths of his brain a little voice rang out_: That was a REALLY stupid thing to say, Dude._ As he saw his brother turn and look at him his eyes sparking like emeralds, the voice said rather smugly: _ See? Told you. Now your really gonna get it._

"Um, I didn't mean that! Dean, you know I didn't mean that! You're not old! I mean, you're older than me, but…." He was babbling now, delaying the inevitable and he knew it.

"And wiser."

"Huh?"

"Older and wiser" Dean said, fingers walking slowly and spider light over Sam's instep.

"A-ha-and wi-wiser." Sam nodded, snickering helplessly. Maybe if he agreed with him Dean would stop this…

Oh who was he kidding? He was toast and he knew it.

"Older and wiser and better-looking…"

"N-no w-way!"

"And about to make his little brother beg for mercy…"

"D-Dean, p-please…"

"Mercy that he's so NOT going to get…" The touches weren't so light anymore; they were also coming a lot quicker and showing no signs of stopping.

The snickering had progressed to out-and-out giggling now. It was getting so hard to even talk, but Sam managed to gasp out "N-no…" along with dragging out the one thing he had left in his arsenal.

Dean ignored the Puppy Eyes, started tickling in earnest, and Sam surrendered to the hysteria.


End file.
